point, joined me on the next trip to the hills. It 
had seemed to require considerable practice for 
the young dog to learn the requirements for 
good grouse hunting. The fact was he had en¬ 
tirely to much vim and speed. Frequently the 
setter would be going full speed ahead, his nose 
would catch a point when it was too late, he 
would wheel into a point as quick as a flash, 
but too late—the bird was up and out of range. 
That then, was our chief difference in institut¬ 
ing the partnership hunts, until finally, after 
much scolding and coaxing, “Pilot” seemed to 
fall into the means of correction very suddenly. 
We had just left the train and with a walk of 
twenty minutes came to a bunch of alders. 
Watching the setter I noted that something was 
“in the wind” and suddenly he became rigid 
and there was no moving him. “Go on,” had no 
effect, so I walked a few paces in front of him, 
when up flushed a full grown grouse. The 
shot was very easy and after bagging the first 
bird the dog seemed to have gotten “onto him¬ 
self.” We hunted that bright day until we had 
bagged eight or nine birds. From their weight 
my shoulders became very weary. I was sev¬ 
eral miles from conveyance and we decided to 
quit; no doubt had the hunt continued there 
would have been four or five more bagged birds. 
I recall one interesting occasion that demon¬ 
strated the dog’s good judgment. He pointed 
a grouse in a thicket of small white oak bushes 
—about waist high. In autumn when the leaves 
are dry and rattle, the oak bushes are trouble¬ 
some for following up grouse. As I walked 
cautiously up to the setter, with a whirring 
rush the grouse flew in towards a pine thicket. 
Just as I touched the trigger I saw the bird 
“side-step” around a pine tree. At the report 
of the gun the resin dust flew from the tree 
just on a line with the birds flight. However, 
as the target had seemed quite out of sight when 
the trigger was pressed I felt sure that the 
flight was continued. The dog looked at me re¬ 
proachfully and followed the course of the bird’s 
flight. In a few moments I distinctly heard 
him “mouthing” a bird—the fine feathers of the 
ruffled grouse are annoying to the retriever, 
hence considerable fuss is usually made in trying 
to pick up the bird. Pretty soon out trotted 
“Pilot” with a dead bird. When it was picked a 
good many shot were found to have perforated 
the skin. Whether the charge caught the bird 
before it got around a tree trunk, or sufficient 
followed the flight in the circuit, I could not 
determine. At all events the setter knew what 
had happened even though he was not as high 
up above the oak bushes as the other fellow was. 
Just after eating luncheon in the hills, on one 
memorable hunt, “Pilot” and I continued on a 
down hill course, in a marshy place, among 
birch bushes. The dog began to trail, when 
suddenly, with a mighty roar, a full grown 
cock grouse got up away ahead; instead of going 
on down grade he swung around and came by 
me at top speed. As I pulled the trigger some¬ 
thing seemed wrong. I made a clean miss. Al¬ 
most involuntarily I relaxed my mouth grip 
upon a very long cigar—it had been in the right 
hand corner of the mouth and jammed against 
the gun stock—that at least was my excuse for 
missing the bird. As the cigar hit the ground 
the old cock was just climbing to the tops of 
V 
